Like Nectar In A Sieve
by accodion
Summary: The Winchester's reputation precedes them when a vampire opens a can of worms. How will the boys deal with the fallout of hearing the truth? Warnings: Wincest, angst, schmoopy sex


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_This is actually my very first fanfic, so it's kind of experimental. It's weird utilizing characters not of my own making, haha. I also haven't written in about a year and a half now, so I felt a little awkward and clumsy writing this. But at the end of the day, I'm really happy with how it came out, and proud of myself for producing something like this in only a few days. Especially with being so out of practice. _

It all started with those damned vampires. If it weren't for them, things could have stayed the same. Stayed normal. Fucked up, extremely unorthodox, and psychologically unhealthy for both of them; but that's the only 'normal' the Winchester boys have ever known. They had their own rules, their own idea of right and wrong, but at the end of the day they were each other's base line. That standard of the everyday they could both hold onto as the world shattered around them.

It all started with those damned vampires. The hunt was going exactly according to plan. Textbook, even. Silently working their way through the nest, they quickly and quietly took out anything in their path. After having scoped the place out for a bit, they had a headcount of six vamps. They finally reached the last room of the building when Sam stopped.

"Something feels off. Maybe we should double check the rest of the house…" He knit his brows together in worry, glancing behind Dean's shoulder. The older man just rolled his eyes and flashed his infamous cocky grin.

"Aaaand there they are, folks. The ovaries have dropped. Stop being a girl, Samantha. We don't have all night." He winked as he brushed passed. Opening the door, machete raised, he entered the room. Sam followed close behind and they made their way to the grungy bed. Standing above the sleeping vampire, the brothers shared a glance before Dean raised his machete. The closed eyes popped open, causing both brothers to jump back.

"Good morning, boys. Didn't think it'd be THIS easy to get you in the trap. You're getting rusty, tsk tsk tsk." With a sing-song voice, the monster taunted them.

"Yeah, well, it's time to say good night, Gracie." Dean smirked as he raised his blade again.

"Good night, Gracie." A deep, amused voice rang out from behind them. Their cornered vamp grinned brilliantly in response. As the new vampire sauntered into the room, Sam and Dean followed. Backed away and turned, never letting either creature gain an advantageous stance.

"And who the hell are you?" Sam glared, his fingers tightening around his own blade as the vampire turned towards him.

"Names aren't important. But if you insist, you can call me George. Now, would you mind telling me why you have decided to slaughter my nest? Surely you can't deny a wittle old vampire like me the right to eat?" Mockingly raising an eyebrow and pouting out blood stained lips, George took a slow step toward Sam.

"How about the fact that you're killing innocent people? Or worse yet, turning them into monsters like you. When you were human, is this what you dreamed of? Do you even remember being human? How can you think this is right? I understand that it's your nature. Vampire nature, human nature, whatever. We're all victims of it. But there's still a universal sense of right and wrong. And killing is wrong." Sam stood up tall, his little speech giving him a dash of extra courage. The image of the victims at the morgue flashed through his head, parents crying over the bodies of their children. George laughed in response.

"Ooh, lookie here. This one has a little vendetta, doesn't he? So precious… But you want to talk about right and wrong? Killing? You left the bodies of my family in the rest of this house. We may have picked off a few people here and there, but we did it to survive. You came here purely to kill. Not in self-defense, not even in vengeance. Those I can understand. Those I know. Those I respect. No. You two came here out of pure MALICE." The final word was spit out as if accompanied by an unpleasant taste. Sam cast a quick glance at Dean, who showed no signs of emotion. George turned around, addressing the elder brother this time.

"And you're the worst one, Dean Winchester. You boys are quite famous, you know. The wonderful Winchesters. Out to avenge Mommy's death. And look at Daddy's perfect little soldier now. Look at the cracks in that crumbling armor. How do you even manage to get out of bed in the morning? I suppose your liquid courage helps, doesn't it? Get drunk enough, often enough, and the days blend together just enough for you to keep walking. Keep stumbling. As long as you have booze in the bottle and your brother in the car, you can almost stand to face each and every excruciating day, can't you? But oooh, we mustn't forget about baby brother. Your one little rock in this ocean of misery you've willingly put yourself in. We all know. The whispers come before the roar of the Impala. We know your exposed nerves. We know how to pluck them. Isn't that right, Sammy?" George turned to face Sam, leaving Dean stricken and silent. His hand loosened ever so slightly on the handle of his machete as the words stuck home.

"You're the only thing your brother has left. You're the only thing your brother ever truly had. Mommy dead so long ago he can barely remember her, Daddy never home enough to even count as a father. He raised you, and you raised him. While he protected you, your stupid little kid innocence kept him just human enough to not self destruct TOO soon, am I right? You were the perfect little reminder of why daddy was out fighting, why he'd soon join him in only a few years' time. So that little Sammy Winchester could sleep easy for one more night. So that he could run away to college as soon as the opportunity arose. You never truly appreciated what Dean gave up for you. Not until it was too late, anyway. Look at him. He's a shell of the man he should have been. The man he WOULD have been had you only stayed just a little longer. Was a couple years of college worth that? Dean's humanity so that you could bed sweet little Jess. Oooh, yes. We can't forget her. That pretty little blond you were all set to marry. Even shopped around for rings a bit, didn't you? Ha. I can see it all in your face. She was dead the moment you laid eyes on her. It would have been more merciful if you had just pulled your knife and slit her throat from day one. Instead you used her. You clung to her and prayed so hard every night that she could be the one to save you. To pull you from the only world you've ever known and save you from what goes bump in the night. But in the end, she wasn't enough. She never would have been enough. Because she wasn't Dean." He took a triumphant stance in the middle of the room, happily looking back and forth between the brothers as they tried to both hide their emotions and read the other's at the same time. He suddenly dove for Dean, pushing him up against the wall, his claws digging into the soft flesh of his throat. As he tried to raise his machete, George knocked it from his hand.

"Nuh uh uh, let's not be naughty now. Not after I did you such a favor and brought some truths to light. You boys are known for your bond to each other, yet you never talk. You say words, but you don't TALK. When was the last time you actually shared your schmoopy fucking emotions? Trust me, you're better off without them, Dean. I admire the way you handle yourself. Anything that isn't instinct gets thrown out the window. The instinct to hunt, to protect your brother, and hell, even the instinct to sleep with as many loose women as you can find. If they spread em, you'll let em, am I right? But you know where that gets you? Miles and miles away from your brother, even when you're in the same room. Look at him. Right now. In this very moment, what is he thinking? Can you tell me if he's entirely over Jess? Over your father? Can you even tell me what his favorite color is? I don't think so. Because all you can tell me is superficial facts about him. You could tell me what he ordered for breakfast, or how long he takes to shit. You could tell me if he snores or not. But you couldn't tell me what makes him tick. And deep down, you know it. You purposefully hold him at arm's length, because you just don't feel like you deserve to -" His rant was cut short as Sam leapt forward, blade raised. The forgotten vampire jumped off the bed and tackled him to the ground. His blade skittered across the floor as George turned to them.

"Don't you touch him! Don't you dare fucking touch him. Or so help me, God, I will END you." Sam spat the words, but George just laughed

"Tough words for a guy pinned unarmed to the ground. What do you think you're going to do? Scratch me to death? Please." He grinned before turning back to Dean, but his face suddenly fell.

"Don't expect him to do anything. But maybe you shouldn't take your eyes off the man you just royally pissed off." Dean smirked, holding his fallen machete. George started to rush in to attack him, but wasn't quite quick enough. His head fell to the floor with a muted thud, blood dripping from the blade. Leaping towards Sam, he quickly dispatched Sam's attacker and helped him to his feet.

"Dean…" Sam took a deep breath and gave his brother the "we need to talk" face.

"No. I swear to all that is good in this world, if you try to say anything to me tonight other than 'thank you for saving my ass again', I will leave you here." Dean held up a hand and just walked out. Sam's shoulders dropped as he watched him leave.

"Thank you for saving my ass again." He tried to fit as much emotion and meaning into the words as he could, but Dean just sighed.

"Way to be literal, Sasquatch. C'mon. Let's get back to the car."

It was a long, silent ride back to their crappy motel on the edge of the crappy town. Everything George had said rushed through both of their heads, but they took drastically different approaches to it. Sam analyzed and thought about every word, trying to pick the truth from what was merely just a ploy to get the brothers to drop their guard and make a mistake. But he knew, as loathe as he was to admit it, that he had told the truth the whole way through. And what did that mean? Did they have that strong of a reputation? Was this really such well-known information? They were in trouble if it were. They really were each other's weak spot. Always had been, always will be. The Winchesters were all about family, and they proved that on a daily basis to anyone who cared to question it.

Dean, however, was pissed. That fucking vamp knew just what to say. Knew everything that he tried to hide from Sam, and threw it out into the open. He was torn between following what he admired and throwing those emotions overboard, and proving him wrong and actually opening up just to spite the damn thing. Neither option appealed to him much, so instead he threw blank glances at Sam. Trying to size up what his brother was thinking. He had his thinking face on, so he knew it'd spell a tense night for them both. Sam was a talker, and he'd keep pushing and pushing until Dean either opened up just enough to satisfy him or shut him out completely.

Sure enough, as soon as he pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, he heard Sam breathe in sharply and could almost hear him open his mouth. Closing his eyes, he steadied himself and took a deep breath as well.

"Sam. I meant it. We are not talking about this. There is nothing to talk about, so you'll have to just shut your pie hole and deal with that." Dean continued on towards their room, unlocking the door and heading straight to the bathroom. He heard Sam shut and lock the door as he stepped into the cold tile of the bathroom.

The illusion of space given by the thin motel walls was exactly what he needed. He sits on the toilet, head in his hands. Hating to accept it, he blinked back the sting of tears. That fucking fang was right. Sam was the only thing he'd ever truly had. Mom being killed before Sammy could even remember her, dad in and out, and flaky at best when he WAS there. All he'd had was the constant companionship of Sam. Raising him, caring for him, and trying to hold the pieces together when he left. He remembered the night he left, the empty smile on his lips as he tried to convince Sam he wasn't falling to pieces at the thought of it all. But he had to let him go. He would be safe at school. Outside of the world of spirits and demons. If he could fashion himself a life of books and domesticity, wasn't it worth the pain? Wouldn't it be worth feeling like half of a person if he knew that somewhere out there, far away from his nightmare, Sam was sitting on a couch? Maybe he'd have an arm draped over Jess' shoulders as they watched a movie. Maybe they'd be in bed, lightly petting and discussing their future. It was a future that Dean stole from him when he sought his help. If he hadn't brought Sam back into the hunt, he'd have been safe and she'd be alive. Instead, he now had to worry about Sam dying every time they went outside. His stupid little brother couldn't be trusted to keep himself safe. He could acknowledge that he was a grown ass man, but deep in his heart he couldn't accept it. Sam would always be that snot nosed little kid who came home from school with a skinned knee. And then there was the other thing. About him being a shell of a man. It was true. Dean had spent so many years perfecting this outer wall, this outer mask. Like an ancient tree, he couldn't see that inner rot until a part of the exterior gave. Every crack in his armor gave him an even better view at just how empty and broken he was inside. His life didn't belong to him anymore. It never really had to begin with. It belonged to Sam, to his dad, and to the hunt. Like an automaton, he simply took care of his brother and hunted monsters. Nothing more. Nothing less. No personal dreams. No desires. No hope. Just a blind faith in his father and a never ending need to keep Sam safe. It either made him very brave, or very stupid. He was starting to suspect the latter. A soft knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts.

"… Dean? Are you okay?" Sam's gentle yet probing voice sounded from the other side of the door. Bracing himself, Dean stared straight ahead at the opposite wall.

"I'm fine, Sam. Now will you please drop it? Yes, that fucker said some things. And yes, maybe there's some truth to it. But it's all stuff we pretty much knew anyway. Just too big of pussies to voice it. So stop pushing this and leave well enough alone!" His only answer was the sound of Sam sliding his back down the door to sit himself on the floor. Rolling his eyes, Dean realized he'd been trapped in there. He'd either talk, or die on the toilet like Elvis.

"No, Dean. I know you hate talking about what you're feeling, but we have to get this out in the open. Call me a girl, call me Samantha, call me whatever name in the book you'd like. But fucking TALK to me, man!" There was a hard edge of determination in his voice that Dean had never heard before. Something inside him snapped.

"Ok, you want me to talk? I'll fucking talk, Princess. Every goddamn word that fang said was true. And I hate that it knew that about me. You know what keeps me going? What gets me out of bed in the morning and into it at night instead of putting a bullet through my brain? You. Booze and you. If I get drunk enough, I can almost be convinced that it's all worth it, man. That I'm still here, still alive enough to keep doing this. Because you know what? Take that away and I realize just how dead I am inside. When I drink, I can get so sloshed that I believe it when you say you're not leaving again. Because really man? When you left for Stanford, it just about broke me. It DID break me. You kept me human. You kept me sane. And then you deserted me. You left me behind. You. Left. Me. Do you realize how much that hurt? Do you CARE how much that hurt? All the things I've done for you over the years, all the shit I've given up. I did it gladly, and I did it without a second thought. And then you just left, happy as a clam. What was I supposed to think, man? What was that supposed to tell me? That you'd choose some apple pie life over the guy who raised you? Over your own fucking brother?" By this time, tears were freely streaming down his cheeks, and he finally broke down into silent sobs. Careful to hide this fact from Sam. He couldn't let his brother know just hurt he really was. He knew Sam was a flight risk. He left once, he'd leave again. That was just a fact he had to live with. If he shoved his fears down enough, he could pretend that he had his brother back again. But it didn't change anything. There was still that nagging little voice, whining in his ear. _He left you once, he'll do it again. Enjoy this while it lasts. He's probably plotting his escape right now. He spends a lot of time just silently thinking in the car. He's trying to get away from you. Again. You drove him away once, you'll drive him away again. And you'll only have yourself to blame, Captain ShitForBrains. _

"Jesus, Dean. Is that why you think I left? And do you really think I'm that ungrateful? You have no idea how hard it was for me to walk away like I did. I'm your weakness, and you know it. And you're mine. It was safer for both of us if I was just out of the picture. I thought you could finally watch your own back if I was gone, instead of you leaving yourself exposed to watch me. I couldn't trust myself to keep you safe in return. If I slipped up, man. One little mistake and you could be dead. I couldn't have that weight on my shoulders. So I ran away from the responsibility of loving you. I ran, and I looked back every step of the way. I knew it was the wrong decision. I knew it wouldn't change anything. I knew you were in as much danger as before, only this time I wouldn't be in the next room to be there for you. So I threw myself into school and I tried to block out all that guilt. All that shame. Did you know I only had a couple friends at school? I drove everyone else away. You were all I could talk about. 'My big brother' this, and 'Dean, my older brother' that. No one could stand how devoted to you I still was. And then I met Jess. And she kinda got it. She understood the importance of family. I obviously spared a few details, but she understood that you raised me while dad worked. She listened to me talk about you for hours on end, man. So patient even though she got bored of hearing the same stories over and over. And then you showed up in my living room, and she knew that I'd be leaving with you. She always told me that she knew if you ever showed up, she wouldn't be seeing me for awhile. And that she was okay with it. You know what she told me, once? She told me that she knew I loved her, but it was only ever going to be a ghost to what we have. Sometimes, she almost questioned…" Sam stopped himself from saying the words. He was smart enough to know that if they were said, they couldn't be taken back. Sighing, his head hit the door gently. He could hear Dean shift around inside the bathroom.

"Questioned what?" His heart was beating so fast it almost hurt. He never thought Sam would tell him this stuff. Wanting to believe it so bad, but he didn't want to deal with the fallout of letting himself believe a lie this big. He heard a another sigh from the other side of the door.

"It's not important. What is important is that I didn't leave for the reasons you think. Yes, I left and that was shitty of me and the wrong thing to do. But I left to save you. I left for you. But then I came back for you. I came back, Dean. And I'm not leaving again. It's you and me, man. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not." Dean was suddenly standing and angry. He kicked the door as hard as he could and heard Sam jump up in surprise.

"Bullshit, Sammy! You abandoned me and then you only came back because Jess was killed. You just turned into dad and had to get your revenge. You may be sticking around for me now, but that's not why you came back in the first place and you know it. Don't insult me with a lie like that. You used me as a means to find the thing. But you know what? I was fucked up enough to take it. I knew you were only with me because it meant getting one step closer to your goal. But for me it meant having you again, so I put up with it. I was so desperate to get you back that I would have taken anything. What does that say about me? Pathetic Dean Winchester, can't even live without his little baby brother. He'll take anything that's given to him because he's sad enough to save it all up in a jar and -" He was cut off by the sudden implosion of the door. Raising his arms out of the way of the flying splinters, he stared dumbstruck at Sam.

"What the hell, Sam! You could have just knocked!" He continues to stare, not sure what his brother will do next. Sam steps forward quickly, clenching the lapels of Dean's jacket in his white knuckled fists. His face is distorted in anger, despair, even a faint glimmer of love.

"You listen here, and you listen well, you fucking asshole. I did not abandon you. I did not leave you without a second thought. I left to protect you the way that you protected me all those years. I came back to help you find dad. I came back to hunt with you. I came back to BE with you. You're all I have left, man. And I'm all you have. We need each other. I need you. I need you so much. Do you have any idea how hard it was to be away from you? To resist the urge to call you every day, to ask if you were still alive? The only reason I didn't was the thought that maybe you were in the middle of a hunt and that I'd distract you just long enough for something to get the jump on you. I felt like calling you would end your life. So I didn't call. I didn't try to find you. Hell, I couldn't even bring myself to ask Bobby about you. I was so convinced that if you knew I was looking in on you, it'd be the end of you. Because you worry about me just as much as I worry about you, and I know how distracting that kind of love is. You want to know what Jess questioned? You really want to know? She questioned whether I loved you as a brother, or as more. She saw just how deeply we're connected. And damnit, she was right. I question that too. Are we so close because of how we were raised, or is there more? I really want to know, Dean. How much do you love me?" The realization of what he said struck him, and Sam's eyes widened. He loosened his fists from Dean's jacket and backed out of the bathroom. Blinking, he sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands, staring at the floor. Clenching and unclenching his fists in his hair. Dean watched him quietly from the doorway, just looking at how shaken up his brother was over his confession. A million thoughts ran through his mind. Sam was potentially in love with him? His own BROTHER? Revulsion, curiosity, happiness, sorrow, anger, confusion, and plenty of it, coursed through his head. That little voice in his head spoke up again. _Now you've done it. You surprised me, Dean. Here I thought you were as fucked up and low as you could get and you found a whole new level. You win all the races! You can't get any women to do more than fuck you and leave, but the one time you get someone to fall in love with you, with the real you… it's your own brother. What did you do to him as a kid? Did you really take care of him? If you had done your job properly, he wouldn't be so fucked up either. He'd still be at school with Jess. You fucked him up, then when he finally had a chance to live the life you would never be able to give him, you went and dragged him right back in. Killed his girlfriend, fucked him up even more. Look at him. He can't even look at you right now. Just… Look at your handiwork, Dean Winchester. This is all you are capable of. Breaking your brother's heart. _Sam looked up slowly, so many emotions reflected in his eyes. It was suffocating to Dean. He ran his hand roughly over his jaw, grabbed his keys and his bag, and walked out of the room without another word. After a few seconds, Sam heard the roar of the Impala's engine and the squealing of tires as Dean raced away from him. He shut his eyes and took a couple slow deep breaths. The white hot rush of blood in his ears almost made him dizzy, so he flipped on the tv to try and pass some time without thinking. After watching a few re-runs of late night sitcoms, he couldn't focus. Deciding to clean his gun instead, he couldn't stop his mind racing as his hands automatically took over. What did he do? He fucked up. Why did he say that stuff to Dean? Why did he push him to talk? Why? Why? Why? He was right, Sam could never leave well enough alone. He'd trapped his brother in the bathroom, and like a cornered animal, he'd bitten back. It was his own fault, and he had to deal with the fallout. As the full shock started to set in, a knock came at the door. Tucking his gun into the back of his jeans, he tentatively opened the door. The hotel manager stood on the other side, looking sleepy and disinterested.

"Good evening, Mr. Beard. Sorry to disturb you so late. Your partner just called the front office and asked us to remind you that you guys were checking out a night early. He said you'd probably forgotten, and that he had to go on ahead early. I'm sorry to do this, but I do need the room… I can give you 45 minutes to pack your belongings." He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, not sure how to read Sam's blank stare.

"I understand. I won't need more than 5 minutes. Sorry for the inconvenience." With a curt nod of his head, he shut the door and tossed his gun into his bag. Double checking the room for last minute things to pack, his eyes fell on Dean's lighter on the bathroom floor. Bending over to pick it up, he squeezed it tightly before slipping it carefully into his pocket. The manager was still out front when he left, so he handed him the keys, hitched his bag onto his shoulder, and started walking.

The Impala hurtled down the deserted freeway, nothing but asphalt and AC/DC to keep Dean company. The first day, he could barely take his eyes off of the empty seat next to him. By the third, he was only casting the occasional glance. Now, at the end of the week, he barely gave it another look. After he walked out on Sam, he pointed the car in a direction and stuck to it. He'd stumble upon the occasional job, but nothing big. A vengeful spirit here, a werewolf there. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and singing along, he almost didn't notice his phone going off. He picked it up without taking his eyes off the road and glanced at the screen. It was a text from Sam, delivered with a punch to the gut. He may be able to trick himself into not focusing on Sam's absence, but he still missed his brother. There were just certain roads he couldn't go down with that man, and a relationship is one of those. They're BROTHERS. Sam needed to learn that. Tentative about what he could have said, he pulls up the message.

_I'm sorry. Can we talk? _

With a sigh, he rests his wrists on top of the wheel to message back.

_Driving. Maybe l8r. _

He sits the phone on his dash, watching the endless road and desert throw themselves around him. Damn it, Sam. Why did he have to say that stuff? Why did he have to go and toss a wrench in the works? They were fluid and perfect as a team, and now Dean can barely stand to think about Sam. It brings up a nauseatingly jumble of emotions. He can't sort through that shit, so he doesn't even try. His phone buzzes with another message.

_Please? I miss you. We really need to talk. _

A short growl of frustration, and Dean's punching buttons on his phone.

_Still driving. Don't wanna make me crash, do u? _

Slamming the phone down on his dash, he gets seriously pissed when it starts ringing a couple minutes later.

"DAMNIT, SAM. I SAID WE'LL TALK ABOUT THIS LATER." He puts on his more furious growl, trying to scare Sam into giving him space.

"Well it's nice to hear from you too, Princess. Can't you even check your phone before you snarl into it? Idgit." The comfortable drawl sounds at him from the other end and Dean instantly deflates a bit.

"Sorry, Bobby. Sam's been pestering me. What's up?" He tries to sound casual, but his voice sounds strained and anxious. He clears his throat and swallows.

"That's the thing. Shouldn't he be there getting your panties in a twist in person? He just called me and told me you ran off and haven't spoken to him in a week. Anything you wanna tell me, boy?" His unhappy, accusatory tone made Dean feel like a kid being chastised.

"Bobby, if you knew the whole story, you wouldn't blame me. Just... You gotta believe me that I'm doing what I need to do. It's not permanent. I just have some thinking to do." Dean sighed, mumbling out his words. Why is HE the bad guy in this?

"Come off it. Don't you think Sam told me what went down? If you want the honest answer, more'n a few of us figured something more was going on between you two boys than a brotherly bond, you know. There's being close to your family, and then there's you two. It's different, yeah. But what's normal in our lives anyway? At this point, Sam being in love with you is just expected. You sold your soul for him. Don't tell me he's JUST a brother to you. I've known you boys since it was still cute when you shit your pants. I may be old, but I ain't stupid." He could practically hear the eye roll in Bobby's voice. Dean was flabbergasted.

"He told you? He told you that he's in love with me and you're OKAY with this? It's incest, Bobby. It's illegal and it's freaky and fucked up, even for us. I may have sold my soul for him, but I love my brother. He's all I've ever had my entire life. I can't let him go that easily. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna settle down and build a white picket fence with him, you know?" Pulling the car over as he spoke, Dean sighed and closed his eyes.

"Yes, he told me. And trust me, kiddo. This ain't the biggest fish I ever fried. Just call yer brother, ya idgit." And with a soft click, Bobby hung up on him. Alone with new things to think about, Dean put himself in Sam's shoes. He had opened up and confessed to something big and scary, and Dean had run away. He got the overwhelming urge to talk to Sam, but he had to play it cool. Picking his phone up, he sent him a text.

_Not driving. Still wanna talk about this? _

Holding his breath as he stared at his phone, he was curious what the conversation would hold. Expecting a call, he was surprised to receive another text.

_Would it make a difference? If you want to say goodbye, Dean, just do it. But don't leave me hanging and stop treating me like a freak because of this._

A solid frown pulled at the corners of Dean's lips. He realized just how horribly he had treated Sam.

_Maybe we should do this face2face. Where r u?_

After a few seconds, his phone buzzed again. A set of coordinates and a motel room. Maybe a day away, less if he really pushed it. He had never been more torn between wanting to floor it and wanting to keep running. But he had to talk to Sam about this. He needed to sort through his thoughts as well. But hell, he had hundeds of miles to do that.

Sam sat back on the bed. He smiled, a little hopeful. Dean had agreed to talk to him about this. That was a good sign, right? He knew that Bobby would talk some sense into him. Granted, he wasn't happy about it. Not by a long shot. He said it was dangerous and wrong, and he didn't understand it. But he loved the boys, so he let Sam explain things and came around in the end. He was the closest thing to a father they had left, so getting his (tentative) blessing meant a lot.

He had made preparations for a few outcomes. A room with two queen size beds. Double checked his gun was cleaned and ready. Stuff like that. He also tried to mentally prepare himself. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. He hoped Dean would give them a shot, but was pepared to lose his brother. As torturous as the idea was, he'd rather lose him this way than to hell again. Emotional distance he could live with. Having him be unreachable was another thing entirely. Now to pass the time until he got here.

Full of nervous tension, Sam spent the time working out. Sit ups, push ups, pull ups in doorways, he even ran a couple miles. Anything to expel his energy and get his mind to stop playing What If scenarios. Finally, late the next evening, his phone buzzed.

_I'm an hour out._

His heart stopped. An hour. He had an hour before it was sink or swim. Pacing the room, he ran his hands through his hair. Had this all been a mistake? What would Dean say when he arrived? Could he even look his brother in the eye? He took a deep, unsteady breath and closed his eyes. Willing his heart to stop pounding, he decided to pick up the room a little and take a shower. He spent a few extra minutes under the shower head, letting the hot water run over his body. By the time he got dressed and walked back into the room, Dean was sitting on one of the beds.

"Lookit these digs. You didn't have to play Cinderella on my account." Flashing his famous megawatt grin, he chuckled as Sam just stood there.

"You said you were an hour out." He remembered to close his jaw, trying not to stare at his brother.

"Yeah, well. I lied. I just wanted to see the look on your face when I surprised you." He started to lose his nerve. He hadn't expected to actually stun him this much.

"C'mon, Sam. Lighten up, will ya?" he chuckled nervously, trying to keep the atmosphere light. Sam sat down on the edge of his bed, hair still dripping onto his shirt.

"Dean..." He didn't know where to begin. He spent so long thinking about this, and now that it was happening, he was lost. He just floundered and stared at his brother pleadingly.

"You're the one who opened this can of worms, Sammy. Gotta finish it up." Dean fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Was it a mistake to come here?

"I don't know where to start." A dry, humorless chuckle.

"Start at the beginning. Just what exactly is going on in that shaggy head and when did it start?" In a surprise moment of brilliance, Dean was being logical.

"Well... It started when I left for school, really. I got there and when it came time to actually start living my life away from you, I felt so lost. People kept asking me if I broke up with someone to be there, and I just told them 'Something like that'. As time went on, I kept thinking about you more and more. Wondering what you were doing, what you were killing. If you were ok. The night I realized just how deep my feelings were, I had been... ah... alone in my room.. I was still in the dorms at this point. I'd been thinking about Jess, and then someone outside my door said 'bitch' and someone replied 'I love you too', and then I Uhm... finished. And the voice sounded like yours. I started crying because I had just came while thinking about my brother and damnit, I liked it. A lot. It'd never happened so strongly before, you know? I kept thinking about it and the realization hit me. I don't love you, Dean. I'm IN love with you." By this point, Sam was talking to the floor, and Dean was glad of it. His eyes were glued to the top of Sam's head. He barely blinked. He wasn't expecting this. He wasn't expecting Sam to really truly be in love with him. For years. He was terrified. Because he wasn't upset by this. He was... happy. All he could think was that Sam felt the same way. Dean never really knew when he fell in love, but it hit him that he was. He had trouble being okay with it, but he expected that. Slowly, he scooted over to Sam and nudged his side.

"I can't really blame you. I AM pretty awesome and sexy, you know. And, to be honest, I will kill you if you ever tell anyone I said this... I'm glad you're so emotional like this. Made me realize something." He bumped his brother again.

"What's that?" Sam glanced at him.

"This." With that, Dean leaned in close, stopping his lips just short of Sam's. A second's hesitation, the world stopped around them, and he bridged the gap. A soft, confused, tentative kiss. Sam stiffened briefly before relaxing, moving ever so closer into his brother. Dean pulled

back and stared. That was different.

"Kissing boys is weird." Dean's addled brains couldn't think of anything more clever to say. Sam laughed.

"So it's weird that it's with a guy, but not that it's me."

"No, Sammy. It's okay because it's you. I think. I dunno why, but... it doesn't bother me that I just kissed you." He leaned in again, running his hand along the back of Sam's neck. Another kiss, a little deeper than the first. Not as awkward, not as scary. But just as new and exciting. All of his memories of Sam flashed through his mind. Every decision, every action that had brought him here to these feelings in this motel room. But then Sam's hand was brushing lightly against his hip, and now it was on the top of his thigh, and something snapped. The peace was broken, and Dean jumped to his feet.

"Dean...? What's the matter?" Sam looked up at him, all confused and out of breath and so... his brother. Shaking his head, he turned his back.

"I can't do this, Sammy. I.. I thought I could maybe... But damnit, you're my BROTHER. I can't get passed that. Maybe I can try? Maybe I don't even want to. I don't know what I want from this, man. I don't know if I want to go for this or if I should just drink myself into oblivion and pretend this was all just a nightmare, try to go back to the way things were..." He ran his hands roughly through his hair.

"I don't think we CAN go back. And I don't want to go back to the way things were, Dean. I spent all those years secretly loving you from the sidelines and now that I'm SO CLOSE to having you, knowing that YOU LOVE ME TOO, I'm not giving up on us. When have we given up on each other in the past? You sold your SOUL to bring me back from the dead. And you can't even give THIS a shot? Just... Just bear with me here. Give me two weeks. Two weeks of REALLY trying whatever we have going here, and if at the end of that time you decide that it's still too much for you... We'll cross that bridge then. C'mon. You owe me at least this much. Am I worth sticking around two weeks for? Or am I not even worth that?" The look on Sam's face went straight to Dean's heart, and it broke. He couldn't do this to him. Couldn't run away again. Two weeks wasn't too much to ask for. In the grand scheme of things, two weeks was nothing. So he nodded.

"Ok. I'll give you two weeks. But you can't push me for anything that I'm not comfortable giving or doing. I'll punch you in the face if you laugh at this, but I'm scared, man. I don't know where this road leads, but I'll keep on it for awhile. For you. But you really run the risk of losing me if you push too fast. Now... since that's all the talking I feel comfortable doing, let's get to drinking."

Not another word was said about their new found relationship. Instead, they watched a crappy horror movie and passed a bottle of whisky back and forth until Sam passed out on his bed, snoring like a bear. Dean sat himself down in the uncomfortable motel chair and watched him for awhile. A few strands of hair, damp with drunken sweat, clung to his forehead. He was curled up like he did as a child. In his adult body, however, he was all limbs and muscle, but he still managed that damned awkwardness that endlessly amused Dean in his teens. He used to laugh at Sam, calling him a dinky little twerp. Only a few months later, he was Dean's height, but would always be the dinky twerp. He filled out, growing into the lankiness his early teens had brought. Dean could pick Sam out of any crowd, but he'd never really LOOKED at his brother. The small details of his appearance. He had a plethora of tiny, faint scars peppering his entire body that Dean had never really noticed. He had plenty of his own, and took their existence for granted. As Sam turned in his sleep, not even under the covers, his shirt pulled up and Dean held his breath. The smallest glimpse of his brother's muscular back had ruined the contemplative mood he was in. He growled and drained the rest of the bottle before flopping onto his own bed. Sam whimpered a little bit in his sleep, brows furrowed. Turning his head, Dean looked at him and softened a bit.

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm still here." Just those simple words, spoken plenty of times before and to be spoken plenty of times in the future, calmed his fretful brother down and woke him up just enough to kick his shoes off and crawl under the covers.

"Gnight, Dean. Thank you..." Quietly mumbled against his pillow, Sam snuggled into his blankets and started snoring again. Dean blinked a few times before turning his gaze to the ceiling. The moonlight bounced around the room, and illuminated a few things. The gentle glint of a gun barrel, a reflection of the empty bottle, and the dark silhouette of two pairs of boots. Simple, unimportant objects, but central to their life together. Would this really end up being much different than what they had now? Other than the obvious added physical layer, nothing had truly changed. It was all the same emotions and feelings, he just now had a name to put them to. Love. But it was love of his own brother. Looking over at Sam again, watching the blanket rise and fall with his breaths, he couldn't help but give a small smile. Somehow, it just didn't seem like the end if the world. Maybe it'd feel bigger and scarier in the morning. He was certain it would. Hungover and remembering that he agreed to be in a relationship with his brother. It was a big deal. However, he slipped off to sleep thinking about how they'd tackle this together.

With a groan, Sam lifted his head and looked around the room. He hated when he tried to keep up with Dean's drinking. It meant waking up feeling like... this. The pale morning light filtered through the curtains, telling him it was too early to be awake. But life waits for no man, and he needed some serious coffee. Dean shifted in his sleep and caught his attention. If he had to be awake to enjoy this morning, so did he. Chucking his pillow at his brother's head, it bounced off unnoticed. Of course. He groaned and struggled to sit up in bed. Standing up, he stumbled over to Dean's bed. He intended to shake him awake, but tripped over his own feet and put his hands out to catch himself. Instead he managed to punch Dean in the stomach with two open palms. His eyes shot open.

"Oof! What the hell? **Ow.**" If looks could kill, Sam would be dead multiple times. Running his hands along the back of his neck, he sputtered nervously.

"Sorry... I meant to wake you up a little less... violently. Heading out for coffee. Want anything?"

"Coffee. Black as night. And pie. This hangover demands pie. Apple or blackberry. Just leave a note next time, jeez." With that, he rolled onto his stomach and went back to sleep.

Was this all a mistake? He never woke Dean up about breakfast of all things. He just got him a cup of coffee and maybe a doughnut or two. Now that things were different, he had to keep trying not to act differently. He didn't want to push Dean away. He couldn't lose him like that. So he decided he'd just act natural and hope it was enough to keep him around. Remembering how he had freaked out at the brush of his hand, he knew he needed kid gloves for this. Shaking his head, he stopped at the store for breakfast, remembering to buy pie.

Back at the motel room, Dean hovered between sleep and wakefulness. Thoughts of the previous night haunted him and made sleep impossible. Had he really agreed to try a relationship with Sam? It made sense though. In the calm of the morning, his emotions were less chaotic. He knew that Sam was in love with him. He wasn't the type to just jump into this kind of thing. Not by a long shot. He also knew that while he hadn't put a name to the feelings, he'd been in love too. All he had to do was get over the fact that it was with his own brother. Hearing the doorknob rattle, he slid his hand his pillow to grip the knife on instinct. Something landed on the bed next to him and he sat bolt upright, knife drawn. He flipped it over, preparing to stab the... paper bag? Looking up, Sam's amused eyes glittered at him.

"Easy there, tiger. It's just breakfast." Sam pulled out a small box of doughnuts and handed it to his brother.

"Is there...?" Dean peered into the box, then at the bag, concentrating intently.

"Yes, I bought you pie." He pulled out two boxes, setting them before Dean. They were

immediately opened and inspected.

"Man, which store did you go to? These look awesome!" He picked at the edge of the crust, which flaked away.

"Well, I was just gonna hit up the grocery store, but saw this bakery on the way. So I went there instead. Better coffee anyway." He handed Dean one of two cups from a drink carrier, who immediately took a big gulp.

"It'll do. Gimme a fork. Daddy needs him some pie." Sam produced two plastic forks from the bag and they ate the blackberry pie in relative silence. Dean couldn't stop making inappropriately happy sounds. Their eyes were flicking back and forth, though. Trying to assess just what the other was thinking. Whether or not they regretted anything. Eventually, Dean looked up and stared at Sam until he caught his attention.

"Moving mountains ain't no thing me, but I don't know the first thing about love." With a little shrug, he went back to his pie and coffee. Sam blinked at him a few times and furrowed his brow.

"I don't think either of us do. And.. and I think that it's okay not to. It's the kinda thing you have to figure out as you go along. Learn it the hard way, you know? It's not like there's a manual for this."

They lapse into a comfortable silence, with only a touch of awkwardness peeking through the window. The boys have spent their entire lives around each other, always keeping the other in their sights. So to push things to this level isn't much different than before once they stop to think about it. But when they do think, it's about what it'll be like to lose the other at this point. And that's just a new level of fear that they have to come to terms with.

As each day passed, they slowly grew more and more comfortable with things. Sweet little kisses shared at bedtime and in the morning. On the third day, Dean surprised Sam. They had ordered their usual double queen room, but as Sam dumped his bag on the far bed, his brother's joined it. Dean's hand wrapped lightly around Sam's wrist and he pulled him down next to him. Just looking at each for a minute before they leaned in and shared a deep kiss. Dean pulled back and stood up, heading into the bathroom to take a shower without a word. Sam sighed. Baby steps.

On the 7th day, Sam went into the motel lobby to get them a room. They'd just rented the last double queen, but they did have a single king. Would that suffice? Yeah. Yeah it would. He made his way back to the Impala, staring at the keys the entire way.

"They didn't have two queens, but they had a single king. I said it was okay, but I saw another place up the road a few blocks. So..." He trailed off. Dean just swallowed and grabbed his bag and locked the car up.

"No. It's fine. C'mon." He grabbed the key from Sam and, checking the number, headed towards it. The setting sun front of him left nothing but a bowlegged silhouette. He could see the outline of the leather jacket, the worn leather boots, all those constant layers that made up Dean's wardrobe. He realized that the longer this went on, the harder it'd be to deal with it if his brother decided he was out. It was a fact he always knew. There was really nothing tying Dean to him, other than their love. If he decided he needed to run again, there'd be no stopping him. There'd be no coming back. His heart couldn't take it, and he wouldn't let Dean get used to being able to come and go as he pleased. It was all or nothing.

It was the first night they made love. As Sam stood there watching him walk away, he'd doubled back. Grabbed his hand, walked quietly and slowly to the room, only letting go to unlock the door. They dumped their bags on the table and stared at the bed. He could feel Dean tense up next to him.

"Look, man. It's cool. Let's just go to the place up the street. I'm sure they'll have a double room." He made to grab his bag again, but Dean stopped him. A hand lightly gripping his elbow, fingers burning into his skin. Dean shook his head ever so slightly and, keeping his eyes locked on Sam's, shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirts. He reached out and lightly took the buttons of his brother's shirt and undid the top few. Sam barely dared to breathe, let alone move. He felt like he'd walked around a corner and found himself face to face with a deer. Any sudden movement and it would turn and flee. Dean's hand wandered slowly over his chest, light touches sending shivers up and down his spine. Sam bowed his head to catch his brother's lips. A light, loving kiss. Not too deep, not too needy. Just loving and patient and full of wonder. He gently slid Dean's shirts off, breaking his touch long enough to pull the final tshirt over his head. He then unbuttoned the rest of his own shirt, ditching it on the floor next to the others. They stood before each other, shirtless, just taking in the level of exposed skin. They'd seen each other shirtless innumerable times. But this was different. These glances were between lovers, not brothers. Sam gently took Dean in his arms, a warm, all encompassing embrace that dispelled the tension and fear. He felt himself being nudged backwards, the older man taking the lead. As his knees hit the edge of the bed, Sam toppled backwards.

As Dean looked down at his brother, he took a deep breath and deftly undid the buttons of his fly. However, he left his jeans up for now, the denim clinging to his hips and muscular thighs. He stepped up onto the bed, head almost to the ceiling, before slowly lowering to his knees. Straddling Sam, he leaned forward and pressed in for another kiss. Feeling his brother's hands slide down his sides and his thumbs hook into the loosened waist of his pants, he deepened the kiss considerably. Lust and need coursed through his veins, but he kept himself in check. He needed to take this slowly. Under any other circumstances, he'd have been jackhammering away by now. But this was his Sammy. He needed to show him just how much he loved him. He knew saying the words wouldn't be enough. He was a man of few words anyway, and of even less emotional words. They'd sound chunky and foreign on his tongue and Sam wouldn't buy it. But this he could do. He could roll his hips slowly against him, push against him. Let him feel the pressure building, the muscles rippling and sliding under heated flesh. He could silently open up, let Sam see the words he couldn't voice, the emotions he couldn't name. He could show him the fire roaring inside his heart and knew that THAT would be enough. He continued to grind into him, bruisig his neck with kisses and nips. His teeth sunk into the soft flesh of his collarbone, causing Sam to gasp and turn his head. He suddenly found himself on his back, Sam hovering above him. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he was silenced with a gentle kiss.

"Shh. No words. Just us, just this."

With that, Sam sat up and got off the bed. Slowly undoing his jeans, he pushed them down his hips. Catching his boxers on the way, they both fell to the floor and he stepped forward. Kneeling before Dean, he carefully, slowly, peeled his jeans down. His hips lifted in assistance and Sam ran his cheek over the bulge in his boxers before looking up at his brother. Hazel eyes full of so much love it made him want to cry. Luckily, Sam's attention soon returned to his work, nibbling and kissing through the thin fabric. As Dean's cock hardened, he slid the remaining piece of clothing off and took him into his mouth. The heaviness felt amazing against his tongue as he took agonizingly slow licks along his length, pointing his tongue just as the tip reached the sensitive underside of the head. He received a sharp gasp in reply. Taking the length between his lips, his head bobbed slowly. After a couple minutes of this, he trailed his hand lightly from Dean's leg, up his thigh, and pushed a finger against his entrance. He hissed in surprise, clenching tightly before relaxing. Sam made loving, reassuring noises as he pushed harder, his finger sliding in. Gently stroking in and out, he continued to bob his head, the crown nudging the back of his throat. He added a second finger, causing Dean to moan loudly and arch his back, his hips thrusting back and forth between Sam's mouth and hand. After a third finger joined in, he starting rolling his hips in need. A slow, beautiful agony of pleasure started to build inside his belly. He was getting closer. He clutched at the bed, marveling at how good his Sammy was making him feel. Just as he was about to go over the edge, everything stopped and he heard a light thump on the bed above him. Flushed, panting, and suddenly empty, he looked down. Sam climbed onto the bed and scooted them both up to the pillows. He positioned Dean on his side, pushed his top leg up to tuck in alongside his body. As he pressed himself against his back, he reached for the item he'd tossed. Flipping the top open on the bottle of lube, he slicked both Dean and himself liberally. Looking over his shoulder, he nodded at Sam before turning forward again. Keeping his leg tucked, Sam positioned himself and gently pushed his hips forward, sinking into Dean a couple of inches before stopping. Let him adjust, slid forward again until Dean's hand shot back and stopped him. They sat there, silent but for their mingled breathing, until Dean let go and nodded again. This time, Sam slid in to the hilt. The gentlest of thrusts, teasing and delicious, had both men moaning. They found a slow, gentle rhythm. Rocking both of their hips in time, they reveled in the feelings. Sam showered his neck and shoulder with kisses, nuzzling his lips to soft skin and hard muscle. Reaching down, he took Dean's cock in his hand, sliding his fist up and down the length in time with his thrusting. It only took a few minutes of this before his head leaned back onto Sam, his back arching as he came with a quiet cry. The strong hand continued to stroke him, the thrusting sped up as Sam's release hit, milking out the last of Dean's load as his own emptied inside him. As their breathing slowed, he gingerly pulled out. He wrapped his arm tightly around Dean's chest and they stayed that way until sleep took them.

"I just don't know if I can do this, Sam. You're my brother, for fuck's sake! I thought I could get over it. I really thought I could. You know I want this. You know how I feel about you. But I just don't think I can get over the guilt and shame of this." Dean spoke to his brother's feet, not able to bring himself to look at his face. He stood there, defeated. Shoulders slumped forward, head hung low. It felt like he had just ripped his own heart out. When he was met with silence, he made himself glance up at Sam. His lips were pursed angrily, and he was barely containing himself.

"You know what, man? Fuck you. I gave you my heart on a silver platter, the way I've always done. The way I always WOULD have. When we were kids, I idolized you. The sun shone out your ass and you could do no wrong and hell, a big part of me still thought that. Until now. Guilt, I can understand feeling that way. But how can you be ashamed of this? Of us? Of.. me? You're ashamed to be in love with me. Do you know how much that hurts, Dean? My big brother, the ONE person I could always count on to have my back and see me through to the other side, has given that up and is ashamed. So you know what? I'm done. Good bye. I hope you have a nice life of lying to yourself and wondering what you could have had. Because I'm not sticking around for the fallout. I deserve better." Sam picked up his bag and opened the front door to leave.

"Sam, wait.. SAM! Where are going?" Dean hopelessly took a step towards the door, but Sam stopped him with a piercing glare thrown over his shoulder.

"When you're going through hell; keep going." And with that, he was gone.

And with that, the nightmares started. Dean couldn't sleep that first night, nor the second. The third, he dozed off but laughter in his head woke him up. He wandered around aimlessly, driving the Impala nowhere and everywhere. Taking random exits, stopping in random towns. In his wake was an ever growing trail of empty bottles and unpaid bar tabs. The voice in his head came back with a vengeance.

_You thought you could get rid of me, didn't you? I may have taken a short vacation, while you were playing house with little Sammy, but I was always there. Always in the back of your head. Just waiting for you to fuck up. And you didn't disappoint. You took the single best thing to have ever happened to you, and you threw it away like it was trash. Do you really think so lowly of your brother? The one man who has never made you feel like you were less than perfect. I'm going to enjoy spending my time here with you. So much to work with. _A small, happy chuckle echoed after the words. Shaking his head, Dean tried to clear the thoughts away. Too much booze, too little sleep. That's all it was. He'd get over this eventually. He'd forget he was in love with Sam and after some time apart, they could go back to being brothers. They'd take preparations. Separate rooms. Separate cars. But they'd still hunt together. Right? But what kind of life is that? That'd be like being alone in the same room. No. He knew that having his brother as a hunting partner required a certain level of closeness. To keep each other safe, they needed to know everything about themselves. Dean needed to know the difference between Sam's startled gasp and his 'something just stabbed me' gasp. How he looks when he's sleeping peacefully versus having a nightmare. He needed to be there for him during the nightmares. So much had happened to them, they both had their private hells. Dean forgot about his own when it came to taking care of Sam, and he knew the opposite was true. Sam always looked most at ease, happiest, when they were talking about Dean.

The car screeched to a halt. He really had given up the best thing in his life. Over what? A little discomfort? If he could handle being torn to shreds by monsters every night, he could handle being a little more emotional with Sam. And wasn't he always trying to get Dean to open up a bit more anyway? He said it'd help, even though it sucked at the time. Whenever Sam was able to glean something, Dean slept like a baby that night. It always helped to know that someone else knew what he was going through. Someone who could understand in a way no other person could. Someone who loved him.

Someone who loved him.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number.

_And who do you think you're calling? Your brother? Do you really think he's gonna answer? Why would he talk to you after you ripped his heart to shreds? You're a heartless bastard. First you break his heart, now you're gonna call and try to take it all back. This wasn't some schoolyard insult, Winchester. This was his love. His life. This was you. Why he'd want you in the first place is beyond me but... _The voice was cut off as Sam's voicemail kicked into gear.

"It's Sam. Leave me a message."

"Hey, Sammy. It's uh... It's me. Look, I know I was a ruthless bastard, but I..can't be away from you. As hard as it was to be with you, it's harder to be away. I can't do this without you, man. I need you. Leave it to me to need all these fuck ups to realize that, eh? Just.. Please. Call me back. We need to talk. About us. I need there to be an us... Bye..." He flipped his phone closed and threw it on the seat next to him. Sam wasn't answering his phone. Hopefully he was busy. Or even just didn't want to talk to Dean. He hoped with all his heart that he wasn't hurt. Bobby would know. Bobby always knows. He retrieved his phone again and dialed.

"Dean? You idjit. You fucking asshole. Where the hell are you and where have you been?" Bobby had picked up and immediately started laying into him.

"I.. Sam and I had an.. I don't know. I don't know how to put it. I thought I couldn't do it, Bobby. He's my BROTHER. But.. I can't do that either. He doesn't deserve me running out on him. Do you know where he is? I tried calling, but he didn't answer so I left him a message." He could hear Bobby suck in a breath and hold it.

"What? Bobby, damnit man, if you know something.. Tell me!"

"Just get to my house as quick as you can, okay? I'll tell you then." The soft click of the line going dead as Bobby hung up jarred Dean. Why couldn't he tell him over the phone? Dread settled into his gut as he sped towards his destination. Luckily, he was only a couple hundred miles out.

After a tense, anxious night of driving, he got to Bobby's and barely got the car turned off and locked before he ran straight into the house.

"BOBBY! BOBBY, WHERE ARE YOU?" He shouted and started searching rooms. A shaggy beard and dingy hat popped out of the kitchen door way.

"In here, boy. And stop shoutin'." Dean raced into the kitchen and found Bobby doing dishes.

"Where's Sam? Is he okay? What happened?" At this, the older man turned away from the sink, sighing and supporting his weight on the counter.

"You're gonna want to sit down. Now, before you get your wishy washy panties in a twist, the boy's _fine_. He got here all in a tizzy a few days ago and told me what happened. You're an ass for that, by the way. Anywhoo, when I told him that you just needed time to come around, he got angry and took off in one of my trucks. I got the call a few hours later. He'd been t-boned by another car and was in the hospital. I guess the other guy was three sheets to the wind or something. He walked away without a scratch. But Sam was a little more banged up. They aren't sure when he'll get out, but he's alive and that's what matters." The bottom dropped out of Dean's stomach and he ran to the back door, violently retching into the yard. A few minutes later, he came back in, eyes red and watery, wiping his mouth the back of a shaky hand.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Where's he at? I need to be there with him." He grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed out the front door. Bobby caught up to him and grabbed his arm.

"There's one thing you should know first. He... ain't exactly awake, you see..." Bobby's heart broke as he watched Dean fold him on himself.

"Then we gotta go. I have to be there when we wakes up. He can't wake up alone. I won't let him."

Dean raced through the halls, Bobby following behind at a slower pace. As he came upon the room, he stopped and slowly approached. Peering in through the open door, he was met with only the beeping of monitors and the gentle whooshing of the oxygen. Sam lay on the bed, pale skin, mussy hair, closed eyes. Bruised and swollen, he was covered in various bandages and had a tube stuck down his throat. Dean covered his mouth with his hand to keep from vomiting at the sight. His baby brother, his little Sammy, all busted up and broken. He always figured something supernatural would get him in the end. Not something average like a drunk driver. Normal people got hurt in car accidents. The Winchesters got hurt by ghosts and demons and all the other things that go bump in the night. He pulled the chair right up to the bedside and picked up his brother's hand.

"Sammy? I'm here, Sam. It's me. I never should have left. I should have stayed with you. You know what? I called you yesterday. I left you a message. I can't be away from you. I need you too much. C'mon, kid. You're killing me. You gotta wake up. You have to keep me going. I can't do this without you. I can't do anything without you. Remember the time when I had my first broken heart? I was probably 12 or 13. You were 8 or 9. I came home just so bummed out. I had never really let anyone in like that, and so I was devastated when it all went wrong. But you just crawled right up next to me on the couch and squeezed my hand and told me that it was okay that she didn't love me anymore, because you would always love me and would always be here for me and told me not to be sad anymore because it made you sad. And I smiled. Through the pain and yeah, even the tears, I smiled and squeezed back. Just like this. Do you feel me squeezing, Sammy? It means I'll never leave you. It means I'm not going anywhere. No guilt. No shame. Just us. There's an Us, man. There'll always be an us. There's always been an us. Please come back to me. Come back, I don't know what to do without you." He had rested his forehead on Sam's shoulder, speaking softly so only he and his brother could hear. A gentle cough roused him and he looked up to see a doctor standing next to Bobby. He walked over and shook Dean's hand.

"I'm Dr. Mark Finnegan. I'm overseeing Mr. Winchester's case. You are?" The short, bespectacled man looked on him with friendly sympathy. Dean coughed and managed a quick half smile.

"Dean Wi.. Smith. Dean Smith. I'm Sam's.. partner." He gave his brother another quick glance, never releasing his hand.

"Well, Dean.. I must say, he's pulling through better than we would have hoped. I know he hasn't woken up yet, but he's healing up quite nicely. I did want to ask you a few questions though, alone." The doctor nodded towards the hallway and Dean panicked for a second. Gave Sam's hand yet another squeeze, planted a kiss on his forehead and went into the hall, giving Bobby a confused look as he walked out.

"What's up, doc? Is something wrong? How is Sam really doing?" The doctor held up a hand to stop Dean's rapid fire questions.

"No, no. I meant what I said. Physically, he's healing up nicely. None of his injuries were too serious. I'm not too worried about him still being out, either. It's not uncommon for patients in his condition, especially since he took quite a bump to the head. What I wanted to ask about was his... medical history. His xrays, and his body period, tell a tale of quite a few injuries. I was just wondering if there was anything we should know about? Some of these injuries are years old, others are more recent."

"We ah.. we fight a lot. Not with each other. Well, sometimes. It's sort of a... Fight club type of thing you know? Normal machismo type a deal. Group of us all get together, fight a few rounds, then patch each other up and drink some booze. We've been doing it for years." The doctor nodded, not quite sure if he believed the story or not.

"Well, that certainly would explain why some of the injuries seem to have been taken care of by people without medical training, and Mr. Singer's story matched yours. Alright, that's all I really needed to know. You can go back in, if you wish." He'd barely finished speaking before Dean was gone, back at Sam's side in an instant. Bobby sat in another chair, just watching the boys. A gamut of emotions running through him. His boys. The closest things to children he'd ever known, two of his closest friends, and now here they were. One fighting for his life, the other fighting to keep it all together, and both fighting for their hearts. He looked on them with love, pride, pity. He knew there had been something between them for years, it was just a matter of when they'd realize it. Seems Sam had come to his senses first, but Dean wasn't far behind. Although he wasn't gonna go quietly, that's for sure. Bobby wished he could say he didn't know where Dean was coming from, but that'd be a lie. Struggling with those feelings in general is bad enough. But for your own brother? It's a lot to swallow and come to terms with. But he knew he would eventually. Ain't nothing in this world can keep those boys apart. Dean was quietly whispering in Sam's ear, clinging to his hand for dear life. A nurse came in and started to speak to Dean, but he caught her attention and brought her out into the hall.

"Sorry, those two have been through a lot recently. Before the accident. If it's something I can help with, I'd rather not bother Dean." He folded his arms, glancing back into the room every couple of seconds. The nurse smiled warmly and put her hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Mr. Singer. I was just going to bring in Mr. Smith's visitor pass. It lets him stay overnight. Normally you have to ask for them and it's a bit of red tape, but I figured I'd get the process started as soon as I saw him. Just let him know to ask us if he needs anything. Blankets, pillows, whatever. There's a nurse at the station just around the corner all night, so she'll be the one to ask." She handed him a few papers and a little clip on badge and walked away. Boddy went back inside and handed the badge to Dean, who clipped it on with a mumbled word of thanks.

"What am I gonna do, Bobby? What if he doesn't wake up? The doctor said he hit his head pretty hard, but that it doesn't look too serious. How can it not be serious? This is why I hate hospitals. Never a straight answer." He lapsed into silence as Bobby rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't sell him so short, Dean. You know your idjit brother is too stubborn to stay like this for long. He's a strong man, he's still got a helluva lotta fight left in him. This is just a temporary setback. If nothing else, it finally gets him to stop moving for 5 minutes and give his body a chance to heal up." Dean just nodded, Bobby's words taking hold and giving him a small spark of hope. It was true. No one was as strong as his Sammy. If anyone was going to pull through this with flying colors, it'd be him. And he'd be here when he woke up.

Bobby eventually went home when visiting hours were over, and the nurses brought Dean cups of coffee and tried to get him to eat, but he only wanted to sit by Sam's side and hold his hand. His thumb lightly brushing over his knuckles. He just kept talking to him the whole time. About everything.

"You know, Sam... I'm glad you pushed this boundary. You had these feelings, and I had these feelings, but you KNOW I'm too chickenshit to have ever done anything about them. I'd have been content to just spend the rest of my life hunting with you, sharing separate beds in crappy motel rooms. Until either a ghost or crappy diner food caught up with me and took me out. Without you, I really have nothing else. Mom's a distant memory, Dad's gone, I never had any friends. None but you. You've been everything to me. You've been my brother, you've been my best friend. Hell, once you were old enough, you pretty much took care of me too. You kept me from completely self-destructing. I'm a broken man, and we all know that. I've got problems coming out my ears. But you help me feel whole, you know that? When I'm with you... when I can make you laugh, or annoy you, or anything. It just reminds me that I'm here. I'm still alive, still fighting, and that you're still here by my side. So I can't have messed up too much if you still want to be around me. If you leave me now, what will I have? Bobby? Can you imagine that? Me spending all my time with Bobby? He'd just be a call center. Get a job, give me a job. Get a job, give me a job. At least I'd get to work on the car a lot too. And there's his chili. When you're out of here, we'll get him to make his chili. And you can make that cornbread of yours. With the little chopped up peppers in it? We'll all eat and drink beer and just... be alive. Be alive, Sammy. Please, don't leave me...There's this voice in my head, you know? It started when you first told me you loved me. It's like I'm alone already and just getting rid of the evidence I was ever here. The things it says... I don't want to hear it anymore. Please, Sammy. Save me from myself." He broke down into silent sobs, his head again resting against his brother's shoulder, as it had been for a few hours now. Just listening to his heartbeat and hearing the whoosh of the machines. This is what life without Sam would be like. This is the feeling he could look forward to. He couldn't do it. He couldn't lose him. A nurse came into the room and, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, roused him from his thoughts.

"Hey, sweetie, I thought I'd come and check on you. You're gonna make yourself sick, and then what use will be to Sam? Why don't you take a shower and get some sleep?" The last part was more of a command than a question, as she steered him into the connected bathroom and handed him a bag of travel sized toiletries. Dean took them silently, staring. Sometimes he and Sam would just share stuff like this. Shampoo, soap, toothpaste. Without him, these small amounts would last him a bit. Shaking his head, he stripped down and stepped into the shower. No. The nurse was right. He wouldn't be of any use to Sam if he let himself fall to pieces before it was time. However, as the hot water coursed over him, that damned voice popped into his head again.

_Poor little Dean. Sitting here in the bathroom thinking about toothpaste while his brother dies mere feet away. You're useless to him, you know. If you hadn't run away, he wouldn't be here now. If you'd just been the brother you SHOULD have been, he'd be safe and sound. But nope. You couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let Sam be happy. Heaven forbid! You're a fuck up, Dean. Always have been, always will be. It's all your fault. You know it too. It's ALL. YOUR. FAULT!_

"**NO!**" He punched the wall the bathroom, trying to quiet the voice. Seething and shaking with anger, he drowned out all other sounds save for his unsteady breaths and the sound of water.

"No... It is NOT my fault. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. And that sucks. But it's okay. Because we rise above. Sam will rise above. I may not have been perfect, but damnit I did my very best for him. Maybe it's not good enough. Who knows. Nothing is good enough for that boy. But he feels I did a good job and damn it all, that's enough for me. If I'm good enough for Sam to love me, and stay in love with me for years, then I can do this. I can build a life with him, and it'll be AMAZING. DAMN IT!" A flush of pink at the bottom of the shower caught his attention at the same time a small stream of smoke flew out of his mouth. A dull ache in his hands stopped him from freaking out at that. He had clenched his fists so tightly that he'd broken the skin and tore into his palms. Deciding he was clean enough anyway, he got out of the shower and toweled off as quick as he could. Jumping back into his clothes, he walked out to a surprised looking Dr. Finnegan.

"Mr. Smith! Are you.. okay? I heard you shouting and talking to yourself in there." Dean gave a small, but genuine, smile.

"Everything's great, Doc. Maybe hospitals aren't such bad places after all. I had a little epiphany in there. Everything is brilliant. Brilliant! Well... not everything..." He sobered a little bit and looked down at Sam.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you wanted to be there when he woke up, so I suggest you stay here. He's starting to show signs of waking up. His brain activity just spiked and levels are up. He had been at the level of someone who was asleep. Now he's much closer to a waking person. It shouldn't be long now, but it could still be hours. When he wakes up, hit the call button and we'll be right in, okay? Relax, Mr. Smith. He's going to be fine." As soon as the doctor left, Dean pulled his phone out and called Bobby.

"Bobby! Bobby he's waking up! He's not quite there yet, but the doctor said he's showing signs so I shouldn't go anywhere. But uhm... something happened in the shower, I wanted to talk to you about it." Dean said everything in one breath, eager to get all the information out.

"First off, good for Sam! I tolja he'd be fine. And second, boy I do NOT need to know what goes on when you shower. You're too old to need the "Your body is changing" talk." Bobby's heart was starting to race. Sam was waking up! He was going to be fine. The brave face he put on around Dean had taken a toll on him, and he'd let himself worry, and drink, as much as he could at home.

"Not that, you pervy old geezer. Lately, I've been having this... voice. In my head. Every time I've messed up with Sam, it's like I was just monologuing to myself about how much of a fuck up I am. I thought it was just me being me... but then a nurse made me take a shower. And it started up again in there, but I fought it, and told myself that I was wrong and things were okay and that I'm not a bad person, you know? And then smoke came out of my mouth. It looked like a demon hightailing it, but it wasn't that big. Just a small tendril. That's when I went back into Sam's room and the doc was there. Told me he was starting to wake up and that his brain activity had suddenly spiked." He heard Bobby's small gasp at the mention of the smoke, but his voice was steady when he spoke.

"Well.. I think I have an idea. At the end of the day, spirits and demons are just concentrations of negative energy, right? And well. Let's face it, kiddo. You beat yourself up over Sam stubbing his toe. So rejecting him when he confessed to loving you, and especially now with the accident.. I think you may have been accidentally making your own vengeful spirit or something. When it left you, what happened? Did it fly off like normal or what?"

"It just kinda... sunk to the floor and dissipated. It looked like when we'd exercise them. Just on a smaller scale."

"Not to sound trite here, but... I think you just... had a demon and exercised it." Bobby sounded halfway between worry and amusement. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Like a normal person? 'Demons in the closet' kinda demon? So when I told myself that the demon was wrong and believed it, I literally exercised my own demon. Huh. Go figure."

"Yeah. I just hope you keep believing the stuff that got rid of it. If it comes back, it'll be with a vengeance, you know."

"I know. I'll keep in touch, Bobby. I'm gonna sit with Sam some more." Hanging up, he tucked his phone into his jacket and turned to look at Sam. He wasn't quite as pale anymore, and the monitors weren't beeping as much. He guessed that was a good sign, but kept a watchful eye anyway. Trying to focus on the positive things, his mood slowly lifted. Sam was waking up, looking better, and he was still alive. Still here. And when he woke up, they could start their lives together.

Together. The word felt good on his lips. It made him hopeful in a way he had never really felt before. Sam really was the best thing that had ever happened to him. When everyone else had given up hope, had written him off, there was always Sam. Always loyal, always loving, always right there by his side no matter what. Despite Dean's many faults, and he would be the first to admit that they were indeed many, Sam still loved him. Still wanted to be with him. He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. Sam had waited all these years for him, and now it was Dean's turn to wait. Studying his brother's face, he took in all the details. He seemed so peaceful, his eyes closed. Girly eyelashes that Dean would never admit he had always loved. Soft, full lips, slack around the breathing tube. A strong, gently sloping jawline that he couldn't help but reach out and stroke gently. He leaned forward again, kissing the side of his mouth. It was as close as he could get, but it still gave him butterflies. THAT was not a feeling he was used to.

"I'm kinda glad you're not awake yet, man. If you knew how much of a girl you've turned me into tonight, I'd never live it down." With a chuckle, he dropped his eyes to watch his thumb brush over Sam's open palm. And then it happened. His hand slowly closed over Dean's and squeezed back. He jerks his head up and sees Sam's eyes flutter open and focus in on him. They slightly widened when he saw Dean there, and the monitor started beeping a lot faster when he noticed whose hand he was holding. With a grin, Dean reached over and just about broke the call button by hitting it so hard.

"Yes? What do you need?" The nurse's voice, sounding very tired at 4:30 in the morning, came through a small speaker on the remote. Dean grinned.

"HE'S AWAKE!" A few minutes later, the doctor and a couple nurses burst into the room and checked Sam over. After removing the breathing tube, he coughed several times and choked down some water offered to him.

"Well, Mr. Winchester. Welcome back to the world of the living. Your throat's gonna be sore for a few days. That's because of the tube. Everything checks out, though. You're in pretty good shape, so that really helped you heal faster. Just take it easy on this 'fight club' of yours for awhile, okay?" With a wink and a grin, the doctor left a confused Sam to stare into Dean's face.

"... Fight club?" He cocked his head to the side a bit, looking every bit like a confused puppy. Dean just laughed and talked about how he and Bobby had explained all the previous injuries. After a bit of chuckling, Sam just looked around the room and then back at Dean.

"So, you said you were glad I was still out because I'd turned you into a girl. Exactly how big are these ovaries you've apparently grown?" Raising an eyebrow, he flashed a grin.

"Ah... You heard that, huh? Well, don't get used to it. Now that you're awake, that's all gone." Dean tried to hide his blushing, but only managed a megawatt grin. Tears sprang to his eyes and he scooted closer to the bed.

"Sam..Sammy... I thought I'd lost you, man. I was so fucking scared that I'd fucked this up beyond repair. I know it's taken me awhile to get to this point, but if you still want me... I'm all yours. For as long as you want me. Did you know that I actually managed to create my own little demon? Yeah, it's true. I was tearing myself up so much about this whole thing. All of that negative energy spawned a tiny little demon inside me. I managed to exercise it though. Well, you did. You saved me, man. I told myself that if you managed to know me inside and out the way you do and STILL love me... that maybe I'm not so worthless after all. If YOU of all people can love me... Then maybe I could just let go and enjoy whatever this is that we have. It's gonna be a long road to truly letting go of my demons, though. Luckily, I don't think they're gonna be as LITERAL as this one was. I got issues, man. You know that. But, I think, with you by my side, I can gank 'em." He ran his hand over his face, wiping away the tears and sighing roughly. Smiling through the tears, he just squeezed Sam's hand all the harder.

"IF we do this, then you have got to promise me that you're done running. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm done chasing you. Either you decide that I'm it, or we go our separate ways and send each other Christmas cards every year. Look at what this has gotten us? You made a demon and I almost died. So please. Just tell me that you promise to just... be with me this time, and we can be happy." Sam tried to remain firm and stern in the face of Dean's tears. The man never cried, so to see him break down and open up this way was startling. He knew he had to handle the situation carefully or else Dean would get scared and run again. Dean knew firm. He knew ultimatums. His brother just nodded and grunted, still trying to control his emotions.

"Sammy, I swear on my life that I am done running. Been there, done that. It's not for me. I need to run TO you. Not away from you. This is all scary as hell, and I don't know what lies down this road for us, but I know I'm willing to travel it and see. Please believe me." He looked up at Sam with pleading eyes.

"Then kiss me and prove it. Don't tell me in words. SHOW ME how much you believe in us." Sam sat up as much as he could, a flicker of fire in his eyes. Dean moved in slowly, supporting himself on the handrails of the bed, Hovering over Sam, he stared deeply into his eyes, willing his cracked and jaded heart to start healing itself in the face of this whole situation. He captured Sam's lips with a tilt of his head. Pressing in and deepening the kiss, he allows his tongue to snake out slowly, exploring. Sam pushes back, runs his hand over the back of Dean's neck, pulls him in, tells him without words just how fiercely he wants this and means everything he said. He can feel his brother shaking, and it goes straight to his heart. He knows that Dean's terrified. Everything in his head is probably screaming at him to run away, that he's putting Sam in danger in a big way by agreeing to this. He knows his brother well enough to know that he needs one last touch of reassurance. So he pulls back, breaks the kiss. Dean's eyes are closed, his lips still parted slightly.

"Dean. It's okay to be afraid. I want you to be afraid. I want you to know that this is scary and there are risks. But I want you to face them with me. We've always faced our fears together, right? Well, this is just one more added to the list." He keeps his hand on Dean's shoulder, running his thumb just under his collar bone. Dean bites his lower lip, furrows his brows slightly.

"I'm torn. Terrified and completely calm at the same time." He leans down, rests his forehead against Sam's.

"It's called being in love."


End file.
